Paranoid

Now that I've proclaimed myself a “writer” (which in point of fact has nothing to do with being published or recognized as one) I find that I get a little gun shy when it comes to typing. Not typing per se, but sending out e-mails, query letters, blog posts , facebook updates and all of the other things I type in a day. People think that a writer should always write good. Well. Whatever.

You should read my journal. Well, it's boring, so I wouldn't recommend it, but in there I just ramble on and on—creating run-on sentences, spelling errors, grammatical fo-pas and dangling participles that I know would make my English teacher friend cringe. (Okay, I won't lie, without Googling I wouldn't remember what a dangling participle was. Maybe I just made one! Go me.)

Maybe brilliant blog posts and e-mails will someday come naturally. After I've written the one million words of crap that every writer has to expel before they get to the good stuff. I'm not sure I'll ever be grammatically correct, nor will I ever stop using incomplete sentences. Does that make me a bad writer? Some days it's why I don't blog. You know, typing something that is supposed to amaze the whole world every day gets a bit tiresome. Especially since I don't really care about amazing the whole world. That's on next year's list of things to do.

Ah, I see I'm rambling again. Frankly I'm surprised that I've typed this much. In the past 24 hours I've put at least 8 hours into editing my novel. What with sleep, showering, church and a family function, that's no little thing. I told a few people that it would be finished by Friday so that they could read it and give me feedback. Now I've really put myself on a deadline. You might not hear from me until Saturday.